Handcraft
by suslinkyle
Summary: SLASH StephenMiles. Next time he would spare the effort and just bring him flowers...


**Warnings:** unbetaed

**Author's note:** English is only my second language so there will be mistakes. I also tend to write slightly OOC. I can't help it, really!

**Disclaimer:** Don't own them...

**Drabbles keep me from working on my longer stories. I am honestly sorry for all the times I secretly chided authors for posting drabbles when I was waiting for the next chapter of a longer fic. I am wiser now... **

* * *

„Are you sure you know what you are doing there?"

"Listen, I handle the most complicated lab equipment money can buy every day of my life.  
I think I might be able to install a simple lamp."

Stephen was trying hard not to sound irritated. Miles surely didn't mean to question his abilities. But it was easy to comment when you weren't the one who had to balance on an unstable chair which made alarmingly creaking noises while trying to adjust delicate pieces of metal with unnervingly tiny screws.

Stephen didn't look down from his currently heightened position but he knew, _he felt_ that Miles was rolling his eyes.

"Fine. Just be careful with those wires. Hey, I always wondered what you would look like with straight hair."

Now it was Stephen's turn to roll his eyes. Who knew that installing could be fun. Not.

"Do you honestly think I don't know better than to touch an uninsulated wire without unplugging the fuse?"

He had unplugged it, hadn't he?

"You have unplugged it, haven't you?"

Synchronicity. The Essence of every stable relationship.

"You know that there are different fuses for every room?"

"Hand me the lampshade, smart ass."

It wasn't _his_ apartment, it wasn't _his_ new lamp and it wasn't _his_ creaking chair. None of his own chairs creaked. And he wasn't the one who illuminated his living room with either dripping candles or an upturned desk lamp.  
He wasn't doing this for himself, no, he was doing it all for his lover who didn't even hold that _damn_ chair while Stephen generously tried to turn his dorm-like habitat into something resembling to a real apartment.

Alright, Miles hadn't exactly asked for a new lamp or for Stephen to install it. And he hadn't exactly jumped with joy when he had opened his door, surprised by Stephen's early visit and the toolbox he was bringing with him.

_Next time I bring him roses. No, not roses. He is allergic to roses. Sunflowers. I'll bring him sunflowers._

Stephen sighed. He really could have spared himself the effort. It had been one of those ideas that seemed to be perfectly romantic and so much better than a simple bunch of flowers.  
But a bunch of flowers didn't make you hear your blood swish in your ears because you had to move your arms over your head all the times.

There was a hand on his lower back.

"You were right, it looks really nice. Does something for…the ambience."

Miles and his gentle heart. Stephen smiled in spite of his rapidly tiring arms.

A small sigh was enough to make Miles feel guilty. Guilty for acting childish, guilty for being ungrateful. He was probably chiding himself for mocking Stephen while his older lover did something nice for him. Stephen sometimes forgot how sensitive his boy was.

The lampshade was fixed and didn't look like it would fall down anytime soon. Stephen forced himself not to leave out another sigh when he could finally lower his arms.  
It was good to have his arms back in their normal position, especially when this enabled him to bury his hands in a silky mass of black hair. Cradling Miles' head Stephen smiled down at his lover, whose lovely features immediately morphed into a happy grin.

_Sunflowers. Lots of them! _

Leaning on Miles' shoulders Stephen stepped down the chair which was definitely close to breaking now. Sensing his lover's need for close contact after that short moment of insecurity, Stephen hugged him tight and enjoyed the nearness of Miles' lean body. The kisses were nice, too. Very nice.

After a few eternal moments Stephen looked up at the new lamp. He couldn't help but feel a kind of silly pride. He reckoned that this was a revelation that happened to all men who weren't normally interested in _how_ their domestic appliances worked as long as they _did_ work.

The lamp looked alright, it looked…._stable_. And he would never in his life trust his health and welfare to that rotten piece of furniture again. He won't even sit on that chair.

The hands on his back were moving in small comforting circles…comforting…why would he need to be comforted?

"Stephen? You _do_ know that lamps don't work without light bulbs, right?"

**End**


End file.
